Couture & Convictions
by xxmaybe
Summary: It's January and the new year brings a cold chill to the big apple and the discovery of a body outside Madison Square Gardens. As the case unfolds, the team soon realize that fashion can really be murder. *Set Around Season 2*
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

It was far too cold, far too dark and certainly far too early for Detective Flack.

Looking around at the fresh crime scene around him, he knew there was good reason to hate Monday mornings.

Any other day he would have been thrilled to be stood outside the grounds of Madison Square Gardens. In fact, he'd only been there the week before with Charlie, enjoying her Christmas present to him, front row tickets to the Rangers vs. Devils. But at gone three in the morning and surrounded by a string of crime tape, it was a little hard to appreciate the grandeur of the building behind him.

He started to rub his bare hands together in a poor attempt to keep them warm when he felt the sharp sting of the cold creeping through once again. The loss of one glove had resulted in the lack of them all together. Something he'd been silently cursing from the moment he'd stomped out of his apartment after a failed attempt to find the misplaced leather glove. A disastrous search that even Charlie had joined in on when she'd stormed out of the bedroom, the noise of his rummage waking her. Something Flack knew hadn't gone down well, since that morning was the start of her day off, the first in a very long time.

The alleyway where the body had been found was secluded, off the side of the Gardens and not too far from Penn Station. Being tucked away didn't mean the avoidance of the elements. The fact that he was stood slap bang in the middle of it only meant that the cold winds had better chance of reaching him. He scoured the roads once more for any sign of the familiar vehicles that would signal the arrival of CSI.

But the streets remained empty, and considering it was nearing just after three twenty and crime tape was up, it was of no real surprise. Fed up of standing still, he followed the path he'd carved out, from the body to the sidewalk to get a better view of the road. He'd been pacing back and forth the path for the past ten minutes, waiting for the CSI's that were long overdue in joining him. Then there were the twenty minutes scouring the area with the reporting officer securing it and prior to that had been a painful thirty-minute wait for the ME on call.

The air carried a harsh chill and the mornings were dark and dreary. Which made it an effort for a usually spry Flack to get out of bed most days. But as Saturday evening had drawn in it'd brought with it a somewhat warmer breeze through the streets of the city. Though the only evidence of this was through the weather reports constantly on the TV in the break rooms at both the precinct and the crime labs.

But a frosty Flack swore it was just as cold as the day before, and the day before that.

It'd been the same thing for the three weeks past Christmas leading into January, bitter winds and freezing snow. Causing major delays to the roads and almost resulted in bringing New York to a standstill the previous week. That was until the mayor deployed all public services to help the council workers of the city clear the streets. Flack grimaced at the thought, he'd had to participate in something similar when he'd first started as a first grade officer, and was only thankful when he made the grade for detective, meaning he didn't have to participate in such drives anymore.

Unfortunately, the somewhat _slightly_ warmer climate had given the opportunity for some of the frozen snow to thaw. Then as soon as Sunday night drew in it brought back the harsh chill with a vengeance. What snow that'd had chance to defrost had now formed an icy glaze across the sidewalks of the city. Something Flack had _quickly_ learnt the hard way when he promptly slid down the steps of the apartment building he'd reluctantly left behind.

He could see the street workers out at the end of the block, spraying salt onto the streets and sidewalks in hope of preventing any more accidents in the early morning rush hour. For a moment, he envied the simplicity of their job and part of him wished he could have just a slice of their normality in his everyday life, rather than dealing with the complexity of the actions one human could inflict on another.

Trying to rid himself of the images of being buried knee deep in freezing snow, he drew in a deep breath and rubbed his bare hands together once more for warmth. He was certain they were going blue – but with little light above him to confirm it, he had to stick with his assumption that they were in the process of dropping off. At least that was what he was going to tell Charlie, in his argument that she was unsympathetic in kicking him out of his apartment only hours ago after his cell phone had rung again for the third time in as many minutes.

"Detective."

Flack turned around to the reporting officer who was only a few years shy of his own, "Yes."

"I've finished here, do you want me to head over to Penn Station?"

Flack scratched his chin as he looked around at the scene behind him. In all other circumstances, he knew it was a risk leaving himself alone at a crime scene with only a ME and dead body, but as the crime scene was secured, he agreed.

"Yeah, put out word that we want any security footage around the west side of the building. Maybe something'll show up."

"Gotta love Monday mornings." The officer quipped, before tipping his cap at the detective and heading off.

Flack groaned – there was a love/hate relationship between him and Monday mornings. They inevitably meant 'on call', though they gave him Saturday nights off – Sunday night would be spent in limbo, too afraid to stray far from his apartment for fear his page or cell would go off. But thanks to some quick thinking and a little sprinkle of charm and persuasion, he'd managed to get out of the past three weeks of on call duty.

Usually calm, Flack was very quickly becoming agitated and the conditions surrounding the latest case were not helping. Despite his personal inconveniences dampening his day, the weather was only helping him by continuing the theme. What little evidence they would be able to gather was slowly being compromised by the snow that was threatening to fall and at a time when he had to be missing a glove.

Not the way he'd envisioned the day starting.

"Hey Flack!"

The detective spun around and practically slid across to the tape Stella was currently ducking under, followed closely by Danny.

"Dammit." He cursed when his elbow connected with the brick wall next to him in his attempt to steady himself.

"You ought to watch it there Don, we need you in one piece. Not in A&E." Stella quipped, tugging her scarf tighter around her neck. The detective envious of the warmth it appeared to bring her.

Flack ground his teeth against the dull pain that was shooting up his arm. "Trust me, ER is starting to look far more appealing."

The rubber gloves came out of her kit to replace the woollen ones she was wearing. Even the fact that they were pink wasn't enough to stop Flack from considering asking her if he could borrow them

"Dare I ask?" She questioned.

Flack simply raised an eyebrow; the expression on his face was enough of an answer for the CSI.

"Let's just move on to our DB taking up residence in the alley shall we?" He said motioning for the CSI's to follow him before he dug his hands back into the pockets of his coat. "And forget the fact you two are forty-five minutes late."

"Hey man, not our fault. They've cut off most of the streets." Danny answered as he popped open his own kit. "They're trying to de-ice the roads before there's anymore crashes on the ice."

"Tell me about it." Flack pitched in, "I lost count of the detours I had to take yesterday just to get from my apartment to the precinct."

Stella stepped between the two men and started to snap shots of anything viable that could come as any use later on at the labs. "So what have we got?"

Only a short hour before Flack had been woken from his sleep, Blake Dawson was doing his last round of the grounds before he clocked off as one of the night watchman team at the Gardens. Desperate to finish his shift, knowing he was half an hour away from a real cup of coffee and his bed he looped back on his route for the west side entrance ticket booth. Passing by his torchlight skimmed the alleyway that ran alongside the building, parallel with Penn Station. He would have continued walking back to the staff room for his belongings had it not been for the flash of red that caught his eye at a last moment glance prompting his further inspection.

The young woman had looked unusually peaceful lain upon the crisp white snow. The 'red' that had initially caught the security guards attention had been the skirt of the decadent blood red dress the victim was clothed in, an overly extravagant strapless gown and shoeless.

But as Blake tried desperately to stir her, thinking it may have been too much drink that had caused her to fall on her way home, it soon became evident that the woman was in no deep sleep and something far more unpleasant had happened.

"Our security guard Blake Dawson over there, called in the DB at twelve fifty this morning on his last round of the front entrances. The ME arrived just before me, at twenty past one. Pronounced her as officially dead five minutes later but no cause of death. Because of the compromise of temperatures he tells me, it's going to be hard to determine an exact time."

Danny let out a slow whistle as he looked down at the woman for the first time, "Those are some fancy threads."

Flack nodded, he wasn't up on his designers, but he _was_ a dutiful boyfriend and had watched enough Sex and The City to know that the dress certainly wasn't off some rack at Macy's.

"She definitely wasn't shopping on a budget for this one." Stella commented, the only woman at the scene and enough dress shopping under her belt to compensate.

Flack shifted to allow Danny to get by. He couldn't help but take another look at the young woman. She did indeed look disturbingly peaceful against the mounds of snow surrounding her, especially with her blonde curls pooled neatly around her shoulders framing her face. The deep red shade of lipstick she wore did well to hide the true blue of her lips.

"So, ID'd our vic yet?" Stella asked.

Flack shook his head; so far both he and the reporting officer had come up empty handed in their search for any ID around the dead woman's body. Even the ME hadn't found anything on the dress.

"Big fat zilch. No purse, no ID. We've just got to hope she's in the system somewhere, that or someone has reported her missing or in the process of doing so."

Stella frowned, "A woman dressed _and_ looking like this is certainly going to be missed."

"Then I guess footprints are out of the question too." Danny remarked as he looked up to the skies as fresh snow started to fall again, for the second time already that morning.

Their DB had been found partially covered by a mound of snow, which had initially looked like it'd been disturbed by her presumed fall to the ground. Any footprints that may or may not have been there before her discovery had been seriously compromised as a result by the CSI's delay in arriving to the crime scene.

Stella snapped several more shots before she stored her camera away in its holdall hooked over her shoulder. "We're going to be lucky if we get any trace out of here at this rate." She sighed, dropping the holdall down and reaching for her kit again. "Any witnesses?"

"We've got an officer in Penn Station trying to get a hold of security footage, hopefully one of their cameras might have picked up our vic. I'm still waiting on answers." Flack turned around and looked out at the vast area surrounding the Gardens. "We're looking Stell, but with our vic being tucked away down here our chances are slim."

"But not impossible." Stella quipped, shooting the detective a smirk. "We better get started Danny. We've got no choice but to process the body in the ME's office. Get them to bag her along with the snow surrounding. We'll collect the rest."

"We're collecting snow now?" Danny gawked.

Stella nodded in the direction of the ME, "Tell them they can start moving the body." She turned to the homicide detective once more. "Has the area been swept?"

"Am I a boy from Yonkers?" He grinned, "Twice so far, and again, nothing."

"I get the feeling we've got a very long day ahead of us."

Danny soon arrived back with the ME in tow. Stella, finishing her quick sweep of the area, watched as they loaded the woman onto the gurney and into a body bag.

"Wait a minute!" Stella shouted, noticing the glimmer from her left ear wasn't replicated on the right. She grabbed her camera again. "She's missing an earring."

"And there I am thinking it was just a fashion trend." Flack quipped as he winced at the flash that came from the camera.

Danny laughed, "Says the man wearing the tie that looks like a three year old designed it."

"Hey," Flack objected. "Charlie bought me this."

"Then she truly has your, ahem, _style_ down to a tee." He teased. "Hey, weren't you here the other week Flack?"

"Uh huh." The detective grinned, "Rangers vs. Devils."

"Good game?"

"My boys did me proud. 5-3 with a sweet hit of the puck scoring the final point in the last three minutes."

Stella turned to the assistant coroner, who was pulling up the zip on their victim's body bag once Stella announced once more she was satisfied she had enough shots. "Who's the coroner on duty this morning?"

"Marty Pino."

"Tell him I want a full report once the autopsy is finished. Danny go with them and make a start with trace and DNA. I have a feeling that dress is going to be key."

"On it boss."

"You need me for anything Stell?" Flack asked, hoping she'd say no and he could leave her with one of the officers who'd not long turned up so he could find a hot cup of coffee somewhere indoors.

"Stick around detective, you might just have your uses."

All hope of escaping to warmer climates were dashed, reluctantly the detective followed the CSI further into the alleyway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Lindsay checked her watch once more, if only to confirm what she was seeing was right. It was some time before nine, and by the CSI's standards, this had to be a first. It was a very rare occasion to find herself strolling into work to start a shift at nine am. Most days she didn't know where she finished to where she began. It was often the case of several days blurring into one and only going home once Mac finally caught her falling asleep on her feet.

Walking through the corridors of the labs, she relished in the moment. She had full intentions of basking in the moment, taking advantage of the notion she was _almost_ working _normal_ hours.

Only three steps shy of the break out room and the cup of coffee she was so eagerly looking forward to, she heard her name being called from the opposite end of the corridor.

"Lindsay!"

Turning around, she saw Stella moving quickly from the now closing elevator doors.

"Hey Stella."

"Have you clocked in yet?"

Lindsay shook her head, "Not yet."

"Good, because you're with me." Stella said as she continued walking.

Lindsay looked down at her watch, eight fifty and already there was work – so much for a normal nine five.

Realising Stella wasn't going to stop, Lindsay picked up pace to catch up with her, "Where are we going?"

The two women walked side by side, passing the glass walls of the labs and the technicians that worked them.

"Morgue."

"What's the case?"

"DB was found in an alleyway between Penn Station and Madison Square Gardens."

"Cause of death?"

Stella shrugged, "That's what we're hoping to find out now."

"Suspicious?"

"Not as such yet. Vic appeared to have no visible wounds, no initial signs of foul play. But dressed in a ball gown and diamond jewellery it doesn't look run of the mill."

"Ball gown?"

"Uh huh."

"I'll never understand this city. So, are we thinking homeless?"

"Not this girl."

"ID?"

Stella shook her head as she held open the swinging door for Lindsay, which would lead to the reception area of the morgue. "None."

"How do we know she's not homeless?"

"Wait until you see her, then you'll know why."

Lindsay pressed the button for the elevator that led down to the morgues below the building.

"You know I don't do the lift to the morgue."

"Come on Stell, its only three floors down."

Stella carried on walking towards the spiral stairs that led to the basement of the building. A habit the older CSI had picked up after the past sweltering summer, where one faulty cable wire resulted in Stella being stuck between floors for a good three hours. Not something she wanted to repeat anytime soon.

"Stairs."

"But–"

"Just think of the workout Lindsay."

Sighing Lindsay shook her head as she followed Stella down the stairs, ensuring she held onto the rail.

"So we're no further than square one?"

"We've got to hope she's somewhere in the system already."

After the lengthy ten-minute jaunt down the steps, Lindsay had been briefed on everything Stella knew. Considering the amount of information they'd collected so far, it didn't take long.

Their entrance into the morgue didn't go unnoticed. Both women smiled when their ME greeted them on duty, Marty Pino.

"Ladies."

"Hey Marty." Stella greeted, grabbing a lab coat from the hook on the wall. "What have you got for us?"

Lindsay followed Stella's lead and tugged on a lab coat also, joining her supervisor at the autopsy table where their Jane Doe was laid out under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights.

Studying the young woman's face, Lindsay realised that there was no way she could be homeless. Her blonde hair was healthy; its curls framed her face. Eyebrows perfectly waxed and shaped. The manicured hands and feet alone were enough to confirm she was far from homeless.

"I can't give you much, we've not finished full autopsy yet. But what I can tell you is that I have pre-empted your next question." He finished, giving the CSI's a knowing grin.

Stella raised an eyebrow, "And that would be?"

"Blood has already been sent up for a full tox screen."

She smiled, "And fingerprints?"

Marty pointed to the folder at the head of the autopsy table, which Lindsay being closest to, promptly picked up and started flicking through.

"Not good I'm afraid."

"Nothing?" Stella asked dismayed, her smile promptly disappearing as she read the report over Lindsay's shoulder.

Marty shook his head, "No hits in AFIS."

"What's the preliminary so far?" Lindsay asked.

Marty paused for thought, "I've got a couple of theories going, but I've got a few more avenues to check out first before I can give a truly definite answer."

"What are you thinking Marty?" Stella questioned, noticing the ME appeared distant.

"Well, when she came in – the grey skin, blue tinges on the fingers, toes and lips, along with dilated pupils. You're looking at a classic case of hypothermia, I'm waiting on the rest of my examination to confirm."

Stella frowned, "No foul play?"

"I don't know. Something about all this is off. From the initial examination, she was a perfectly healthy young woman. I can't see what would have caused such a sudden case of hypothermia. You see this kind of thing with the homeless, not being able to keep warm enough in the winter months. But this is a different story, judging by what she was wearing when she came in and the time she was found, she definitely wasn't homeless and I don't think she was out there that long."

"On the news they reported that it dropped into the minuses last night." Lindsay commented, knowing all too well how cold it'd become in past months.

"I know," the ME still looked puzzled, "I'm hoping the tox results give us something. I'm sorry I can't be more of a help to you guys at the moment."

Stella gave him a reassuring smile, "Don't worry Marty, I know you'll find us something."

"I'll page you when I get the full reports."

…

"So, this is how it works then?"

Adam raised a puzzled eyebrow as he looked up at the blonde in front of him, "Come again?"

The demure lab technician flicked the paper Adam had open in front of him, his feet swung casually over the spare stool in front.

"I get the joy of working all these DNA and trace samples, while you have the pressing job of reading up on," She leant over to see what it was he was reading, "oh wow, the latest celebrity love triangle."

"I'll have you know–"

"Know what?" She chided playfully.

"I'll have you know Liberty, that this information I'm reading now will have it's use some day. You'll need me and you'll be sorry."

"When exactly?" She asked, tucking a stray platinum curl behind her ear. "The next time NYPD is called out to the Jolie-Pitts household?"

"You'll be sorry."

"I'll be sorry? I think not Mr. I'm getting paid to sit on my ass all day. I think you'll be sorry when you find yourself out on that sorry ass of yours, with no job to speak of if you don't start on that pile of DNA samples Marty sent up."

"Anyone would think you were in charge." He taunted sarcastically, a playful tone to his voice as she rounded the stainless steel station.

"Don't make me pull ranks on you Ross." She warned, with a pointed manicured nail.

He swung his feet off of the stool in front of him and gave a quick salute, "Yes ma'am."

She rolled her eyes, "That's better."

Judging by her appearance alone it was hard to place the young woman as the forensic lab technician manager. Dressed immaculately, full face of makeup, not a hair out of place and always in heels, due to her demure height of five foot five, she was known for the poised elegance she brought to the labs.

By her mantra, and her defence when challenged on the effort she made in the labs when it was 'only work', was that if she was going to spend all her time there, then she may as well get dressed up for it.

It wasn't as if she was going to find the time to show it off anywhere else.

Liberty Vaughn had become the forensic laboratory manager in the leave of her predecessor Jane Paulson at the age of twenty-nine. A young age by any standard, but a well-deserved promotion at that. One that was orchestrated by Jane herself before she left and overseen by the labs chief co-director Rhea Moore.

She's started working at the labs once she left university at the age of twenty-two, after a successful internship in her last year of study. Working her way through various departments, even toying with the idea of becoming a detective, she settled eventually in the forensics department. Showing a keen interest in trace and DNA, two areas that were her main focus of study, it wasn't long before she found a home in the heart of the NYPD labs.

Liberty looked up from the microscope she'd settled behind, blowing a curl out of her face, she propped her hand on her hip.

"Please tell me you're planning on moving Ross."

Adam grinned devilishly, still sat in the seat he'd promised he'd move from only moments ago. At only two years younger than his superior, he knew there was a lot more he could get away with than what he could when Jane had been around, but also knew his limits. By judging the look that was on her face, he gathered he had a good twenty minutes before Liberty's patience ran thin.

He held his hands up in defence, "I relinquish my talents to you."

"Thank you, now get on with it."

"It's a shame," Adam said as he finally stood from his stool, "that this lab can't run without my charisma."

Liberty said nothing, choosing only to give a piercing glare. Pointing at the samples waiting for Adam to process before returning to her microscope.

…

Danny carried the gown in its garment bag through the corridors of the labs; the news that foul play may not have been a factor had indeed reached his ears. Though this didn't stop his determination. He'd originally gone over the dress upon his arrival at the labs some hours ago, but his lack of success only drove him to pull it out once more.

He was set on finding something of substance that would give them some connection to their Jane Doe, if only to give her a name.

She deserved that at least.

He'd only been carrying for a short while, from the drying room to the layout room. A simple five-minute journey down the corridor, but with the weight of the dress hanging above his head he had to admit it was quickly weighing him down.

When the dress was clothing their Jane Doe, it was impressive but once hung up you could appreciate the splendour of the design. The ruby red creation, made from silk lamé and taffeta, had a shaped neckline with a thick boned corseted structure underneath its bodice giving the dress its extra weight. The layers of taffeta and silk beneath the skirt of the dress were endless, pooling on to floor into a cathedral train at the back. It was not a dress that was worn out casually on a Friday or Saturday night out.

But Danny could only imagine dresses like this were made with the intention of making the wearer, miserable, unable to eat or drink anything the entire time they wore it.

Walking past the main trace and DNA labs Danny was thankful when the end was in sight and picked up pace to lay the dress out on the layout table.

…

Liberty half paid attention to the speech Adam was currently giving on the finer points of studying celebrity culture, having long learnt to tune him out and give the corresponding nod or tut of disapproval at the correct intervals to let him know she was still interested. It was while she was searching for a reference sample; turning on her stool to the bench behind her, which faced the glass wall of the lab, did she see Danny in the layout room across from her.

She would have turned back had she not caught sight of the CSI smoothly pull the gown from the garment bag. Her jaw near enough dropped to the floor in disbelief as she watched him lay it out against the artificially lit table. Dropping her clipboard back onto the bench in front of her, she scrambled out of the lab leaving Adam mid conversation and bewildered as he watched her run across to the layout room.

"Uh, Liberty?"

It was too late, she'd already left the room in the time it took him to realise she was leaving.

The door burst open and Liberty nearly fell into the room. Danny looked up casually from the magnifying glass he was using to study the hem of the dress for any trace he may have missed.

"Liberty." He said, watching the blonde technician catch her breath.

"How the hell did you manage to get a hold of a vintage couture designer gown?" She said once she'd fully regained her composure, in awe of the dress that lay before her.

"Vintage what?" Danny asked, watching the lab technician inspect the gown from all angles. The only vintage he had any true knowledge of was wine, and that was limited to what Flack had taught him once before a date that he wanted to impress.

She shot him an incredulous look, "This dress Danny, is worth more than both our salaries combined."

"Tell me Vaughn, how the hell do you know that?"

Liberty raised an eyebrow as she stood up from her inspection of the dress. "Just because it appears I spend my life in this lab doesn't mean I don't try and attempt _some_ form of one when I eventually manage to tear myself away from the building."

Danny smiled, "Ok I get it, so how'd you become miss fashion savvy?"

"Since I saw this dress two days ago." She answered matter-of-fact,

Danny's eyes grew wide, "How did you manage to see a dress that was on _our_ dead body two days ago? Let alone a dress that we're assuming is worth thousands."

"It was at the Fashion Institute of Technology. They've currently got an exhibit of vintage couture showing."

"Couture? So that's important right?" He asked cautiously.

Liberty laughed, "Yes Danny. Mostly one of a kind stuff, couture is fundamentally handmade. High end and only the best fabrics are used, crazy expensive. Put it this way, you won't be seeing another one of these wandering around New York City."

Danny had just found the open lead they were so desperately looking for. The adrenaline rush of new information had him flying around the table he'd been stood behind and grabbing Liberty by the shoulders.

"I'd kiss you if I didn't know what the repercussions would be."

Liberty was unmoved by his sudden euphoria, "I'd keep moving then if I were you Messer." She turned around once he'd let go of her and he had the door to the lab open, "One more thing, just remember to credit me as the one who broke the case."

He gave the blonde his best smile, "Liberty, at this moment I'd give you anything."

"Be careful with what you say Messer, I might just take you up on that one day."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Where are we Stella?" Mac asked choosing to forgo any formalities when he realised it was Stella who'd stepped into his office unannounced. Had it been anyone else, there would have been a warning attached to his question to knock before entering.

Having spent a tense and an overly strung out morning downtown giving evidence in court, hanging around for answers was not what he was looking for. Instead, Mac wanted to be up to speed with the previous nights events with as little fuss as possible.

"We've got a Jane Doe, found in an alley way between Madison Gardens and Penn Station."

Mac nodded as he sat, "Do you have the final autopsy report through yet?"

He'd come into the building via the basement entrance and had seen Stella's case number scribbled on the whiteboard outside the morgue's swinging double doors as he made his way up the stairs.

Stella frowned, "Not yet."

"Not yet? What's going on here Stella?"

She stepped closer to Mac's desk, though making no indication that she was going to sit.

"Marty was the ME on call last night."

"I know," Mac interrupted, "What I want to know, is what's the delay?"

The CSI supervisor didn't appreciate the interruption, and made no attempt to hide her annoyance in the scowl she delivered to him. He'd called her to his office on his way back from the courthouse, so she knew he was in less than a pleasant mood but still didn't welcome it regardless of her expectance of it.

"Marty's being thorough. His premise is not matching the report."

"Well do we have the preliminaries at least?" Stella shook her head, "Again, what's happening Stella?" Mac asked agitated, it was nearing noon and he knew for a fact the body had arrived at the morgue well over six hours ago.

"Marty believes our Jane Doe's COD was hypothermia."

Mac thought it over for a moment, "Nothing untoward. The temperature in the city did dip well below minus last night. I don't see how this is holding up our final report."

Stella agreed, stepping closer to Mac's desk once more.

"I know, but our Jane Doe is, _was_ a healthy young woman."

"There are plenty of deaths from hypothermia reported in the winter. Homeless men and women unable to find adequate shelter."

"She was found dressed only in a lavish red gown, no shoes and a select piece of diamond jewellery. Far from homeless Mac."

"Are we any closer to giving our Jane Doe a name?"

"No hits in AFIS and no ID on _or_ around the body. We need to give her a name Mac."

"I agree, but you need to find answers Stella." She turned to leave, but before she could get half way across the office, he called her back. "But this does not mean I'm giving you free reign to run out what could be no cause of foul play."

"Okay." Was her one worded answer, but Mac knew her better than she liked to believe.

"You need to find something that's going to back up your theory or we've got no case here."

The pair watched the other for a brief moment, as if daring the other to speak. It was Mac who broke first; Stella was very good at playing the silent game when she wanted.

"If the COD comes back as no foul play, I want you to sign off on this. Hand it over to the PD to chase up with missing persons." He watched her cross her arms. "I mean it Stella, we've got bigger cases to be running. I want to see that final report on my desk before the day is through."

Stella said nothing, instead choosing to nod politely before turning on her heel and leaving Mac's office. She was a woman of substance, and Mac knew that by ruffling her feathers it would only push her to dig that bit deeper.

…

Liberty fixed Danny with a look of disbelief, "You want _me_, to _help_ you?"

"Please?"

"I just cracked your case, is that not enough?"

He pointed at the dress. "Come on, you know more about this than I do."

Liberty in turn pointed to the ID badge pinned to her jeans, "See this? Says NYPD lab technician, not CSI. That's why they pay me more to be stuck in that lab with monkey boy Ross here."

"I heard that!" Adam protested, but both chose to ignore him.

"I know, but–"

Liberty scoffed, "But what? You'll owe me one?"

Danny tried a different avenue, "You know, this could be construed as you obstructing an investigation?"

Liberty remained unmoved, though she hadn't objected to helping, it wouldn't have been tradition had the pair not engaged in their usual back and forth bickering.

"Do you really think that's going to move me Messer?"

"You're going to make me beg aren't you?"

"It would be nice."

"Liberty."

"Danny." She mocked with the same pleading tone.

"Seriously." He sighed, "You're going to make me do it aren't you?"

She shrugged, "Do what?"

"Liberty please? I've been trying to call Stella and I'm getting nothing."

She raised a nonchalant eyebrow, "So I'm second choice now?"

Adam piped up from the back of the room, "If I were you, I'd give in at this point Messer."

"You do know he's right don't you?" Liberty continued, finally choosing to acknowledge Adam.

Danny winced, "Fine."

She followed him out of the lab to the layout room; "You so better make this worth it."

"You know you're enjoying it so don't lie."

"But doesn't mean I can't make it worth my while."

He led her back into the expansive layout room. The clinical steel and backlit tables sent a shiver down the lab technician's spine. Though the labs she worked in had a similar scientific feel the expansive space devoid of the clutter that usually inhabited her usual working areas threw her off balance, making her feel uneasy.

Danny pulled out a box of gloves from a cupboard behind Liberty. Taking a pair of gloves, he pushed the box to the technician,

"Okay, gloves. I don't want anything compromised."

Liberty fixed the CSI with a look of disbelief, "I know how it works Danny. I'm blonde, not stupid." She argued as she snapped on a pair of rubber gloves.

"Just wanted to double check."

"Where do you want to start?" She asked staring down the length of the red gown.

Danny took position at the head of the table next to Liberty.

"How about you start from the bottom up and we'll meet half way?"

"Okay, sounds good to me."

The pair worked in a comfortable silence, stopping momentarily every so often to collect trace that might have some use in helping the case. As she collected another hair that had become entangled with one of the taffeta petticoats Liberty sighed. She had the feeling the majority belonged to their Jane Doe.

Folding the layers back down, she smoothed the front of the dress and instantly caught sight of the fold that didn't follow the rest of the dress.

"Ah ha."

Her sudden proclamation caused Danny to jump from his position leant over the body of the dress.

"What?"

"I just found the hidden pocket."

"Hidden pocket?"

Liberty nodded, "Women who wear dresses like this hardly carry a purse on their shoulder. You guys don't know how easy you have it with your back pockets and wallets. Most women attending glitzy events keep a lipstick, mirror or in our victims case," She pulled out a ticket from the discrete pocket. "A metrocard for the subway."

Danny took the card from the lab technician, holding it up to the light for inspection.

"Think there's anything in that?"

Danny continued his inspection; "I can dust it for prints, and hope that it brings something up. But MetroCard's don't require any ID to buy."

"I know, I pay seventy six bucks for one of them every month. Whack my visa in the machine and instant unlimited travel across New York City for thirty days."

"Then there would be a record of your purchase somewhere?"

Liberty nodded, "That's why I pay by card, for the insurance."

"Sorry."

"If I pay by card and I loose my MetroCard, I can make an insurance claim." She took the card from Danny's hand, inspecting it herself.

Danny read over her shoulder, "And this one was paid by a credit card." He pointed to the tiny printed type at the bottom right hand side of the card.

"And the location of the card machine." Liberty finished.

"Liberty–" Danny started, but the technician soon cut him off.

"Yeah, yeah – you owe me Messer!"

…

"Hey Stella! Wait up."

On her way to her office to review what little they had and to find out of any of Flack's digging into missing persons had brought them anything, Stella stopped, turning around to find Marty jogging to catch up with her.

"Marty."

It was a rare sight to find any of the ME's 'above ground', usually keeping to themselves as they burrowed around in the underground of the New York labs. Though with the exception of a rare few, they were notoriously hard to track down. Stella would have to admit she still found herself surprised to find Hawkes working upstairs, despite working as a CSI now for several months.

"I was right, it was hypothermia."

Stella frowned; it wasn't the news she wanted to hear. "I guess we can rule this one out as suspicious then."

"I wouldn't write it off quite yet."

"What makes you say that?"

"Like I said earlier, she was a perfectly healthy young woman."

"So we're safe to assume that it wasn't a simple cause of being out in cold too long?"

"There's a lot that can affect hypothermia, speed up the process so to speak. Diabetes, malnutrition, thyroid disease even certain medications can put you at risk for secondary hypothermia."

"But not to kill though?"

"Prolonged and continuous exposure yes. But if our Jane Doe was only out there for the night, there'd be a case of a bit of frostbite. Nothing an overnight stay in hospital wouldn't fix though."

"Someone must have seen her. Anything else that could play a cause in this?"

"Last but not least on the list, alcohol."

"Have we got the tox results back?"

"I spoke with Liberty who says there's been a delay on DNA for the past couple of days with rushes taking priority. As ours wasn't, so naturally it went to the back of the pile."

"I'll speak to her, get it put through as priority."

"Don't worry, I've done it already." Stella raised an eyebrow, "I called in a favour."

"Do I want to know?"

Marty scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "No, I don't think you do."

…

Danny raced around the glassed walled corridor that led to Mac's office, while Stella was marching around the other, the pair meeting just outside at the same time.

"Hey Stella!" The older CSI promptly stopped, somewhat irritated at being caught in the middle of the corridor for the second time that afternoon. "Check your messages much?"

"Danny."

He jogged the short distance between them, "I've been trying to call you, tried paging but no answer. No one could get a hold of you."

"That can't be right. My cell phone is always o–" She looked down at the cell attached to her hip. "Dammit! Battery is dead, sorry Danny. I stopped by the precinct to go over some missing persons reports with Flack."

"Did you find anything?" She shook her head; it'd been an unrewarding visit. "It's okay, at least I caught you. I think I may have something."

His promising news caused the curiosity in the CSI to swell.

"What you got?"

"You got time to stop by Mac's office?" She nodded, "Then lets kill two birds with one stone."

Stella pushed open the door to Mac's office, letting herself in once again unannounced. Danny on the other hand reluctantly followed her in, he knew better than to walk in unannounced. Though with the glass windows and open blinds it was a hard task _not_ to see them coming.

"Autopsy results are in." Stella gave Mac the manila folder Marty had given her earlier and had not left her since. "COD is hypothermia."

Mac shrugged once he'd finished scouring through the report, "Nothing suspicious there."

Stella repeated the synopsis Marty had given her earlier on the onset causes of hypothermia and what could have contributed, "In all cases there is nothing there to explain why a healthy young woman would suddenly die from hypothermia."

"I don't see any tox results."

"There's been a slack in DNA processing due to staffing issues, but Marty assures me there's been a rush tagged on our request."

Having asked Stella the same question earlier, Mac chose to ask Danny instead. "Do we have a name yet?"

Danny grinned, it was his turn now, "No positive ID as of yet, but we've got a lead."

"We do?" Stella asked shocked and bemused all at the same time.

"I did try calling you." Danny countered.

"What have we got Danny?" Mac asked.

"Liberty ID'd the dress."

"Liberty Vaughn?" Mac said, surprised that the lab technician was involved with the identification of their one main piece of evidence.

"Yeah, she was down at the Fashion Institute two days ago where they were showing our dress on display. A celebration of couture through the ages."

"Have we confirmed this?"

"Naw, not yet. But we did find a metrocard in the pocket of the dress."

"Anything off it?" Stella asked.

Danny explained the process in which the ticket was purchased, "And we have one sole print off the back."

"Hit's in AFIS?" Stella asked eagerly.

"None, but we've got a lead if we can subpoena the transaction history of the ticket machine."

The pair looked eagerly at Mac who appeared to be mulling the information over.

"Stella I want those tox results with me the moment they come out of the printer, make sure Liberty knows this _is_ a rush. Danny, give Flack a call and see what he can do to get something moving on a subpoena with the ticket machine company and if possible the credit company that the ticket was paid on."

"On it boss." Danny saluted before giving Stella a quick grin as he turned to leave the room, reaching for his cell phone and dialling in the pre-programmed number. "Don, it's me."

The remaining CSI's watched him leave.

"Thank you Mac." Stella said earnestly, thankful he was giving her the chance to run with her hunch. Though she could have continued without his permission, there was no doubt he would have put her case to bed had he thought there was no case for further investigation.

"There'll be thanks when we can give our Jane Doe a name." He picked up the phone at the edge of his desk, dialling the buildings operator. "Fashion Institute of Technology."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Flack was about to take another bite out of his breakfast sub when the phone at the side of his desk started to ring. Reluctantly he put down the food; reaching over the stack of paperwork he was conveniently ignoring, to answer the phone.

"Flack."

"Don, it's Mac. I need you to accompany me down to the Fashion Institute of Technology. We've got an appointment this morning with the Dean and I need a list of students."

"We got a lead? I thought we'd run it cold?"

"The dress our Jane Doe was wearing has been identified as being on show this week at the colleges museum of displays. It's the closet we've got to getting a name."

"But I thought it was being written off as no foul play."

Mac sighed, "Stella thinks there's more to it and I'm reluctant to move this over to PD without going down every avenue first."

"Okay Mac, I'll start moving now. You want me to swing by the labs?" Flack asked, secretly hoping Mac would say no. He wasn't as bad as Stella with her 'no food' rule while running up leads, but Flack knew if Mac said no it gave him a good five minutes to finish his breakfast and grab a cup of coffee on the way out.

"No, I'm good thanks. I'll meet you there."

Both said their goodbyes and Flack dropped the phone back into its cradle, instantly reaching for his discarded sub. One hand holding his breakfast, the other grabbing his cell phone and reporters pad and shoving them into his pockets he relished in finally enjoying his long overdue meal.

"Yo Flack, you got a minute?"

Flack swallowed the last of his breakfast, "Make it fast Kelly. I was supposed to leave five minutes ago to meet Mac across town."

"You finished the report on the Jacobs case?" Flack glanced at the stack of paperwork that was teetering at the edge of his desk. "Please don't tell me it's in the middle of that crap."

Flack grinned as he pulled out the requested report from the top pile of his 'out' tray.

"Have I ever disappointed you?"

"How long you got?"

"I'm insulted."

"I'm insulting."

Oscar Kelly stood at six foot two, blue eyed and with a cropped blonde crew cut. His athletic build was a swift contrast to Flack's, a result of a childhood of playing football, a hobby that had led to a full scholarship out of school. Turned down in favour for starting his career with the NYPD.

He was a homicide detective, making the grade the same year as Flack. The pair had literally come up through the ranks together and had formed a firm friendship in and outside of work.

The similarity didn't stop there either. He too understood the burden of being the son of a high profile detective. His mother had paved the way for women in the NYPD, she was the first female officer o make detective in homicide. As much as they were similar, Kelly's shadow was far easier to step out of. Though Lauren Kelly had been an integral part of the NYPD, her status was severely overshadowed by the 'legend' that was Don Flack Senior.

But lately he had been teetering on the idea of transferring to the FBI, who'd been trying to swipe him from the PD since he excelled in their training exams the previous summer. He'd excelled in every section of the exam going, but no matter how hard things got still he couldn't find it in him to leave his place in homicide.

"I thought this was all put to bed?" Flack said as he watched Kelly flick through the manila folder.

The arrest of Kevin Jacobs had been heralded a triumph for the NYPD. An investigation that had spanned five years, Kevin Jacobs rein of terror across the city only came to an end three months ago when a unanimous jury found him guilty for raping and murdering six women on their doorsteps systematically over the past six years, one every year to the date of the one previous.

His last attempt had been on a young woman returning to her apartment complex late one night. Jacobs had been following her routine for the previous four months, having selected her long before his attack. What had only been described as sheer luck by the judge in court, her escape had only come about the tardiness of a UPS deliveryman. Two hours late for a package for the store of the corner, his arrival had distracted Jacobs from his victim and gave her opportunity to escape. But not before leaving with a chunk of his DNA by force.

It was to be the catalyst in his capture and conviction

Grabbing a handful of his hair in their scuffle, his DNA, on file for his work in the bank he worked in, was linked to all six of the previous unsolved cases thanks to the evolution in DNA technology. Securing his long overdue reservation at Sing Sing across the Hudson River and prompting a fresh media debate on bringing back the death penalty in New York.

It'd been a media frenzy since the second murder had been reported; especially when a leak within the homicide team let information out that the two were connected. It was a case both detectives were familiar with, the second murder occurred on their first week as rookies with homicide. Kelly had been chosen to join the team of detectives investigating the case, one he had followed for the length of his career with homicide thus far.

Kelly frowned, "They think they can link him to another two murders in Brooklyn three years ago, and they're still trawling through the unsolved's upstairs." Flack winced, "And to top it off his lawyers are going to go for an appeal."

"You're shitting me?"

"Tell me about it. I can't believe they've got the nerve to try." Kelly shook his head, needing to move onto a lighter subject he promptly shut the folder in his hands. "You catching the game at Riley's this weekend?"

Flack thought it over as he shrugged on his coat, "Dunno. Let me get back to you on that one, I don't know what Charlie's doing."

"Bring her with you, she's the only woman I know who can drink me under the table."

Flack grinned, "I'll ask her when I see her next."

"Drop me a call, you know where to find me!" He turned to head back to his desk, turning back at the last moment. "By the way stud, you've got ketchup down your tie! Not a good look for scoring, if you know what I mean?"

Flack looked down at his tie, he was right. There was a bright red splotch of ketchup staring back at him.

"Great." He muttered under his breath as he waved Kelly off and headed for the door, all the while trying to scrub off the sauce from his cream tie.

…

"You're late." Came Mac's greeting when Flack made this arrival ten minutes late.

"Sorry, I got stopped on my way out." Flack apologised as he joined Mac in heading up the steps that led to the main entrance of the college. He also didn't want to tell him he spent a good five minutes searching his car for the tie he was now wearing.

"Any luck on the MetroCard?"

Flack shook his head, "It's slow moving, but I've got the ball rolling. Subpoena should be in soon."

"Good."

"Do you really think this is going to lead to anything Mac? It's the middle of winter, a confirmed hypothermia case is hardly cause for a full investigation."

"Things need to be done by the book Don, we're required to look into any suspicious deaths. But we've not got near enough evidence to back up any theory of foul play."

Mac held the door open for the detective, and the pair made their way through the corridor until they came to the entrance to the museum's department within the institute. Making their presence known, they were assured the dean would be with them momentarily.

Flack swiped one of the flyers from the display, turning it over he read the back.

"I think I've been here before."

Mac raised a curious eyebrow, Liberty Vaughn and her love for fashion he could picture being at the college looking over the displays. But a six foot two homicide detective from Yonkers with a strong affiliation with all things unfashionable, he had a hard time believing.

"You think you've been here?"

"Mac, I've not seen the inside of my apartment since Sunday night. I'm running on empty and it's already Tuesday morning." Flack scratched the back of his neck, "Charlie's friend Gwen, she's a photographer. I think she had a showing here. But you know me Mac, I was more concerned on the free bar and hockey updates Danny was texting me all night."

"Detective Taylor?"

The pair turned around to see a middle aged Chinese woman enter the room. Her black hair was fashioned into an elaborate twist secured by a bright blue ribbon for decoration, which complemented the red streaks to her hair. Her decorative hairstyle was certainly a contrast to the black pencil skirt and fitted blouse she wore as her painfully high heels clicked against the wooden floorboards as she walked the small distance to greet the detectives.

"Mrs. Cho?"

"Yes. I got your message this morning, I understand you want to discuss the institutes recent display?"

"You're showing a line of couture through the ages, am I right?"

She nodded, "Yes, we acquired on loan several pieces from very dominant designers across the world. The premise was to show how couture has evolved, the students have been working on creating their own couture pieces to compliment the collection."

"Was one of the pieces this dress?" Flack asked, pointing to the red dress on the flyer he held in his hand. "We believe that this is the dress we have in our possession."

Mrs. Cho took a moment to look at the flyer before looking back up at Flack, "There is no way a dress like that would be simply floating around New York City, detective?"

"Flack."

"Detective Flack, that dress is more than fifty years old and our most valued dress in the collection. It's an Oscar De La Renta, one of his earliest pieces, rumoured to have been commissioned for a very high profile political socialite. The value on this is beyond words."

Mac pulled a glossy photo from the document wallet in his hands, "Then I'm sure you'll be able to confirm from this photo if this is indeed your dress."

"Nonsense." She snatched the photo from his hands, pulling her glasses out from her pocket. Her head spun to the long line of display cases.

Without warning, she began to march down the length of the room. The detectives quickly followed her around the large glass covered displays until they reached the far end of the room where they were met with an empty display case.

"How the hell did this happen? It should have been returned to the display case right after the show!"

"Show?" Mac asked.

"We invited several high profile designers and fashion editors to come to a showing Sunday afternoon. Select collections of the couture pieces were modelled by some of the students. This one included!"

"That was Sunday night, why wasn't this discovered sooner?"

She rubbed her forehead, "We haven't had a showing since then. I've been away since Monday morning, at an admissions conference. This was all locked up until you were let in."

Flack peered around the empty case, "No one else has access?"

"No, there's been no record of anyone entering here. There would be no need for anyone to come through. What is really going on detectives? I hardly believe either of you have a strong interest in fashion so why would you have our dress?"

"Monday morning a young woman was found dead in an alleyway wearing this dress, we're trying to identify her." Flack explained.

"If we showed you a picture, do you think you might be able to recognise her? She may have been one of your students."

"Oh my god, Lydia!" Mrs. Cho clutched to the second photo Mac had just handed to her as her face paled.

"Lydia?" He questioned.

"This is Lydia Sanson, she's here on a scholarship. She was in her freshman year, just about to complete her finals. She had so much promise, oh god – this is awful."

Flack carefully took the photo from the older woman, "Mrs. Cho, we're going to need a list of all your students."

"Of course, of course. I'll start getting it now." She took two steps toward her office before turning back. "Her parents! Who will tell them? They need to be informed."

"We'll arrange that for you Mrs. Cho, someone at the PD will contact them."

"Thank you, I'll get that information for you now Detective."

"We've got a name Mac." Flack said once Mrs. Cho had disappeared to her office.

Mac nodded, "But we're going to have to wait and see what tox brings us back before we can make any final decisions."

…

Liberty scowled in annoyance when the coroner continued to tap at the steel counter next to her, while she tried in vain to concentrate on the test she was trying to complete.

"Marty, I swear if you don't stop that tapping I will have no doubts about throwing you out of here."

"Sorry Libs, I'm just impatient."

"More like grating."

"I've got a lot riding on this."

"And I've got to complete the test, which I can't do with you breathing down my neck Marty."

"Am not."

"I've asked you to move three times."

"Ok, so I'm a little eager."

"Which will not make the results come out any quicker."

She stepped backwards, instantly knocking into Marty who'd stopped right behind her.

"Marty!"

"Sorry Libs, but this is important."

"I know, how many times do you need to tell me? You're not the only one who's got Mac, Stella and a team of CSI's breathing down their necks. Who do you think those last three pages are from?" She pointed at a vacant stool, "Sit!"

He held his hands up in surrender, "I give in. I shall simply observe."

"Pity you couldn't have done it sooner."

For the next half an hour the lab fell into a rhythmic silence as the various machines ticked over, momentarily interrupted by the rumbling of the GCMS, signalling their results were ready.

Liberty let out a slow whistle, pushing her glasses to the top of her head she re-read the results that'd just pulled from the printer.

Marty sprung from his stool, "What's wrong?"

"Your vic's alcohol levels that's what."

"What is it?"

"I think you ought to take a look for yourself."

He scoured the white piece of paper. "This can't be right?"

"I put three samples through, a precaution to ensure the results are deemed honest in the case of a false positive."

Marty looked up from the printed pages, "But this says her alcohol levels are through the roof! 0.39, with this in her system she wouldn't have been able to even speak coherently let alone walk from the fashion institute to Penn Station. She would have been comatose!"

"Maybe your girl had a little help."

"She would have had to have consumed a hell of a lot of alcohol. She would have passed out from less than half of this at her weight! Trust me, I should know."

"Don't worry, I believe you. I had to carry you home from the Christmas party."

"You're never going to let me forget that are you?"

She grinned, "Not when its so much fun." Liberty's pager went off again, checking the display she ushered Marty out of her lab. "That's Stella. You better get moving Marty; she'll want to know this. Here," she handed him an extra print out. "This is for Mac, he requested the results as soon as they came through."

Marty looked solemnly at the results in his hands, "Stella was right. This is certainly a cause of suspected foul play to look into."

Liberty shook her head, "Despite how long I've been here, it still amazes me the crimes humans can inflict on one another."

Marty nodded in agreement, he saw them on a daily basis. "And sadly it's what pays our wages."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Flack scratched the back of his neck as he made his way around the workshop benches that were heavily laden with rolls of brightly coloured fabrics. He straightened his tie as he finally met with Danny at the front of the workshop.

"How many _I was too wasted to remember_ stories have you heard so far?"

Danny shook his head, "Too many. Man, we're getting nowhere."

"I think we've gone through almost all the students that were at the show. None of them seem to remember seeing our vic after she walked the runway in the dress."

The pair looked back at the bustling workshop, which contained near enough every student that was part of the fashion show that past Sunday.

"Somebody had to have seen her, you can't tell me a girl in a dress like that just disappears."

Flack shrugged, "We're going to have to see if we can get a hold of any security footage from around the campus. Maybe she'll show up somewhere."

Danny nodded, "I'll get onto Mrs. Cho, she was willing to hand over the list of students, I'm sure she'll comply with footage too."

"I'll meet you back at the labs Dan, I'm going to head back to the precinct."

The pair were about to leave when they were approached by a young blonde woman.

"Are you the detectives investigating Lydia's death?"

Flack straightened up as she approached, "Detective Flack, detective Messer and you would be?"

"Carly, Carly Ramona. I only just heard that she was found dead, I was really close to her."

Danny sighed, "If you're here to ask us about the immediate pass rule we've got no clue."

She nodded, "I'm, I mean I was Lydia's roommate."

Flack ignored Danny, "Did you see Lydia after her part in the show? Were you together?"

Carly shook her head, "No, she ran out after the final showing. Said she had somewhere to be."

"She say where?" Danny asked.

She shook her head, "No. She just said she'd meet me later at the party. But when I got to the after party, she was nowhere to be seen."

Flack nodded, "Where were you earlier when we calling in all the attendees for questioning."

Carly briefly looked back at the space the detectives had conducted their brief questioning.

"I was in a lecture across the other side of the campus. Like I said, I only found out about all this now."

Flack pulled out a business card from the inside pocket of his jacket, "If you remember anything give me a call on that number there."

"Thank you."

The pair waited for the woman to leave before speaking, "What do you think Dan?"

"I dunno, she may have been the last person to see Lydia before she made it to Penn Station, we may want to keep tabs on her."

"I'll catch up with Stella, find out if she's got anything new. Maybe call her into the precinct."

…

Liberty shivered as she stepped down from the last step that led into the morgue. It wasn't a place she visited frequently and was starting to wish she'd grabbed her winter jacket over her lab coat as the air became colder the further she walked through the department. Like the labs above them, the morgues worked on a similar setup – the walls were glass and she could see several bodies either side of her either being prepped for autopsy or post autopsy, which only gave her another shiver she tried to shrug off.

Before she could turn off down the corridor she knew led to the chief medical examiners office she heard her name being called from behind her.

"I wondered when you were going to join the party."

She scowled as the chill bit her once more, "I've seen far too much of you over the last two days Pino."

Turning around she found Marty stood at the head of the corridor.

"Nice to see you too Vaughn."

"Where's Stella? I heard she was joining this little soiree?"

"She's on her way down, come on – we're set up down here."

Despite her four-inch heels, she managed to quickly catch up with the M.E.

"You bring the results with you?"

She waved the brown folder in her hands, "Got 'em."

"Surprised you made it so fast down here."

"Adam's got it covered up there." She felt another shiver and rubbed her arms, "I don't know how you're so used to it down here."

"What? The bodies or the cold?"

"Both."

Marty shrugged as he held open the door to the autopsy room where their vic lay, "I suppose you don't – you just find different ways of coping with it."

Timing on their side, no sooner after their arrival the doors of the autopsy room opened and a pensive Stella stepped in.

"Stella!"

Greeting the ME and lab technician, she promptly joined the pair. "We've got to stop meeting like this Marty, people are going to start talking."

He gave her a quick flash of a smile as he held up the tox report in his hand. "Tox is in."

Her eyes widening she took the report from the lab technicians hands.

"0.39? These levels are through the roof! There's no way she would have been able to have consumed this much alcohol _and_ made it as far as she did!"

"Alcohol speeds up the hypothermia process. Too much will shut down the body's heat balancing system dead." Marty explained.

Stella shook her head, "She wouldn't have even known she was cold."

Marty nodded, confirming her conclusion.

"Being left in the cold rather than A&E is what killed her. If she'd received treatment there would have been a chance she would have made it."

"What a choice, death by hypothermia or by alcohol poisoning." Liberty sighed,

"But we've got cause for further investigation. We've got a suspected manslaughter on our hands now at the least."

"I'm going to go back to the body, there's no way she could have consumed this much alcohol on her own. Even half of this would have rendered her incoherent, it must have been administered another way."

Stella nodded, "I'll second that with the labs, Liberty isolate the alcohol. See we can get something."

Liberty nodded as Marty frowned, "Isn't that pushing it?"

She shrugged, "It's all we've got."

Liberty turned to leave the morgues, but not before turning back to the CSI and M.E., "These tests Stella, they're not going to be easy."

"I know."

"I just don't want to see people wager bets that this will reveal something groundbreaking. There's a chance I won't be able to get anything specific out of this."

Stella gave the younger woman a reassuring smile, "I know you'll do your best Liberty."

…

After an unsuccessful morning interviewing several dozen students, Flack and Danny had been given the keys to Lydia and Carly's dorm room. The pair were hoping that there might be a clue to her whereabouts after the show there. Though they knew she didn't return to her apartment, her roommate had confirmed this, they knew there could be a chance there was some clue as to any plans she may have made for after her runway debut.

Danny stomped out of Lydia's room, "I got nothing, again! No date books, no planners. Just a post it note stuck to her laptop saying what time she had to be at the institute."

"Can we take the laptop in?"

Danny nodded, "I got it bagged up. Password protected, I'm going to have to give it to Adam to look into back at the labs."

Flack nodded before walking over to the small kitchen nook, there were various beads and fabric swatches splayed out next to a thick notebook full of designs. He lifted up several papers and found a basket of beads, and there was something there that caught his eye."

"Hey, Danno – I think I've got something here."

Danny stood from his crouched position on the floor, where he had been going through several portfolios; stretching his arms above his head, he joined the detective in the kitchen.

"Whatcha got Flack."

"Earring."

"Earring?"

"I think it's our vics missing earring."

Danny pulled out a pen from his back pocket, using it to hook the delicate white gold and diamond chandelier earring. Bringing it up to eye level, he inspected it closer, it did indeed look similar to the one in evidence back at the lab.

"You know, I'm starting to worry about you."

"Huh?"

"Don Flack, the man who can name you every last pitcher for the Yankees over the last four years, just ID'd an earring he saw once Monday morning."

Flack grinned, "Feeling threatened Messer?"

"What? You suggesting you're a better CSI than me?"

The detective shrugged, a smirk dancing on his lips, "Just calling them as I see them."

"You just go back to your detective work Flack." Danny responded, bagging the earring. "We don't want to go messing with the natural order of things around here."

"Question is, if our vic never left the studio after her performance in the show. How did this earring make its way back here?"

"I think you've got a reason to bring Miss. Ramona down to the station."

…

It was nearing eleven at night when Liberty knocked on the office door to Stella's office. She had on her coat, her red leather purse was hung over her shoulder, and in her hand the results of the test Stella had requested.

"Come in."

"Hey Stella."

"I thought you clocked off hours ago?"

Liberty nodded, "I wanted to get these tests done as quickly as possible." She held up the manila folder in her hands before sliding across to Stella on her desk.

Stella flipped through the pages, "Pure ethanol."

"Pure ethanol." Liberty echoed. "The results were hard pushed, I couldn't get a break down of the purity of it, but its safe to say it wasn't the two hundred percent pure stuff. The one in your vics body had trace amounts of toxic benzene. Which means wherever it's from, it wasn't intended for human consumption."

Stella sighed, sitting back in her chair she looked up to the woman opposite her, "What other use is there for pure ethanol?"

Liberty took a seat opposite Stella, across from her desk. "Where do you want to start? It has fuel properties, its being tested actually across the country as an alternative fuel source. It's already an element in fuel anyway, but they think they can distil it for a more economical fuel. In World War II they used it as rocket fuel, some aerospace engineers still follow the same practice."

"Anything more commercial?" Stella asked.

"You're got your alcoholic beverages, they all start off as pure ethanol. It's used in antidotes."

"Antidotes?"

Liberty nodded, "For poisoning by other toxic alcohols, in particular methanol. Umm, what else? Paints, perfumes, marker pens. Antiseptic use is probably most common after alcohol; it's used in antiseptic wipes, ethanol kills organisms."

"So we're looking at a huge playing field."

"Afraid so, but like I said. This ethanol wasn't made for human consumption, doesn't mean it was life threatening," She stood to leave. "But would have made your vic awfully ill. She would have had to have needed hospital treatment to flush her system of the toxins."

"Thanks Liberty." But before the woman could leave, Stella had one more question. "How much pure ethanol would it take to kill a person?"

Liberty quickly did the maths in her head, "I guess, around 400mg. With our vic, taking her weight into consideration, a little less. But from the alcohol levels we got back from the initial tests I would say as an off the bat judgement, she wasn't far away from it."

"So it could have been accidental consumption?"

Liberty shrugged, "Maybe. I can't see why someone would voluntarily drink that much ethanol straight. Though it doesn't have any taste, but a strong smell which I suppose can be construed as just another strong alcohol, or masked by a mixer, convincing the person drinking it it's fit for consumption."

"But she could never had consumed that much willingly, for starters she wouldn't have been able to lift the glass after a few shots of it."

Liberty held the door open, "And that's where I leave it to you CSI's to figure out. Night Stella."

"Night Liberty."

Stella gave the younger woman a smile and wave goodbye as she watched her walk out the office. Despite the buxom blonde persona sometimes placed on her, the petite blonde could be a fountain of scientific knowledge.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Mac had gathered the team together the following morning for a meeting to discuss the new developments on their case. The invitation had also been extended to Liberty, who'd just taken a seat back next to Lindsey after explaining the results from the alcohol tests.

"As you can see we're now officially looking at foul play." Mac explained, "What we need to do now is get a clearer idea of our victims whereabouts from the moment she left the stage leading up to her body being discovered next to Penn Station."

Hawkes pushed his glasses up onto the top of his head, "Did we get a print off the MetroCard?"

Lindsey shook her head; "Danny passed it to me, nothing but messy partials, couldn't get anything."

"We know it was bought with a MasterCard, we're just waiting on the subpoena to go through in order to gain the name attached to the purchase." Flack said, pre-empting the next question. "I've been promised it'll be through by twelve today, getting it narrowed down then shouldn't be a hard task."

"What else have we got?" Mac asked as he looked over at his team.

"Apart from the whole lot of nothing?" Lindsey said, "Not much."

"There's got to be something we're missing." Stella remarked, absentmindedly tapping her pen against her chin.

"Then we need to go back to the start again." Mac summarized, "Look at what we've got, no matter how small and try and bridge the gaps. Someone would have had to have seen her at one point that evening. What we do know is that there is foul play involved."

Danny had been on his way from the other side of the labs when his pager had gone off signalling Mac's request for his presence at the team update. He'd been walking with Flack until they'd run into the blonde from reception and Danny had promised he would catch up.

That was ten minute's back.

He attempted to sneak into the layout room unnoticed; lateness was not welcome in the New York crime labs. Unfortunately for him, Flack had caught him coming through from behind him and coughed, bringing attention to the CSI.

"Nice of you to join us Danny." Mac said, breaking from his discussion with Stella.

Danny grinned sheepishly, but not before shooting a glare at the detective beside him.

"Sorry," Flack apologised – a smirk at his lips, "Tickly throat."

"As I was saying." Mac said, bringing the rooms attention back to the matter at hand. "We're looking at the least, manslaughter."

There was a knock at the layout room door and Marty stuck his head around.

"Am I interrupting?"

Stella shook her head as she stood from the counter she was leant against. "No, what's up Marty?"

He shut the door behind him and squeezed between the CSI's to meet both Stella and Mac.

"I went back to the body like I said."

"Anything come up?" Mac asked.

Marty nodded and spread out the photos from the folder he brought with him onto the table so everyone could get a clear look.

"This is what I found."

"What are we looking for?" Lindsey asked as she struggled to see anything significant on the glossy photos in front of her. From what she could see they were the same photos he had given them the previous morning.

That was when Marty pulled out his last photo, a close up of the victims left inner arm and wrist.

"Post mortem bruising." Mac said as soon as he saw the image.

"Exactly," Marty concurred, "And if you look closely, you can see track marks."

"Track marks? There were no drugs in her system." Danny commented, passing the photo he was looking at back to Hawkes.

"The reason I went back to the body was to answer the question of how our vic managed to consume such a high level of alcohol. As you all know, to have _voluntarily_ drank that much would have been impossible." He signalled to his own arm illustrating the spot where he found the post mortem bruising. "Which is when I found the bruising. One of the best ways to get alcohol into your system, aside from shots of vodka to the eye, is–"

"Injection." Stella finished, finally realising where Marty was leading them.

"Injection marks on her wrist as well as post mortem bruising. We initially wrote it off as an after effect of the fall, but–" He grabbed Stella's wrist in a loose grip, turning it out to face him. "What it looks like now is that our vic was forcibly injected with pure ethanol."

"We've got manslaughter at the least here." Stella said, pleased with her efforts to ensure that the case wasn't just dropped to the missing persons department at PD.

"Can we prove those injections contained ethanol?" Mac asked, wanting to ensure they had all bases covered before jumping to a definite conclusion.

Marty pointed to another picture that'd been spread out with the set across the layout table.

"If you see there, this damaged tissue backs up Liberty's lab results. Pure ethanol, or ethanol of any high concentration damages tissue on contact."

Mac reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket as his cell began to ring, "Excuse me."

"If we found the source of ethanol, could you match it the level of alcohol in our vics body?" Stella asked Liberty as Mac excused himself from the room.

Liberty ran her hand through her hair, "Well, it is possible, you get the samples to me and I'll do my best."

"We need to go back to the workshop, the victims apartment and the institute." Hawkes stated.

"But on what basis?" Lindsey countered, "We've got no leads on any suspects."

"Flack and I had a look around the vics apartment" Danny said, explaining the discovery of the earring. "We're going to bring the room mate back in for questioning."

Before Stella could assign the remaining, members of the team on chasing their leads Mac reappeared, pocketing his cell phone.

"That was dispatch, I'm sorry Stella – it's going to be just you and Danny on this one from now on."

"What's going on Mac?"

"There's been a double homicide across town, I'm going to need Lindsey and Hawkes. I'm sorry Stella. You know how tight things are lately."

"I know." She sighed, "Looks like it's just us boys." She remarked, looking at both Flack and Danny.

"Well, I'm going to go question Miss. Ramona, I'm curious as to how that earring made it home and our vic didn't."

Flack upped and left, following out Lindsey and Hawkes.

"Where we going Stell?" Danny asked turning to his supervisor.

"It'll be easy enough to obtain a warrant for the workshop and relating areas. I think we could have one before we arrive at the student workshop."

"Because our vic would have had to have been injected with the ethanol _before_ she arrived at Penn Station."

"Exactly."

"Do I get to drive?"

Stella raised an eyebrow, "What do you think?"

"I think I'm calling shotgun."

…

Danny shut the door to the car and met Stella at the sidewalk; he nodded in the direction of the steps, "Looks like our warrant's here."

"Told you it'd be fast." Stella quipped as the pair fell in step to meet Flack.

"You know, I should charge you two for this warrant service. You're lucky I was on my way down here."

Stella gave the detective a smile, "We owe you one." She skimmed through the warrant, "We got everything we need Danny."

"Well, I'll leave the search to you CSI's – I've got a student to question."

Danny waved off the detective, "Later Flack."

Stella stamped the snow from her shoes as the pair made their way through the main doors of the main building of the college.

"I can't wait for this snow to stop."

"I heard we've still got a couple of weeks of it."

"Can I help you?" The security guard asked as the pair approached.

Stella flashed her badge, "CSI Bonasera, CSI Messer. We're here to see Kim Cho, we've got a warrant to search the workshops."

He took a long look at her badge before eyeing the duo, "Follow me."

Stella was surprised to find that Mrs. Cho was already waiting for them and was stood outside the doors that led through to the workshops.

"Mrs. Cho, my name is Stella Bonasera, you already know CSI Messer."

"Yes, we've met previously."

"We've come to search the workshops."

The petite woman nodded, "I understand. There's a few students in there at the moment, but I'll go ask them to leave now."

"Before you do Mrs. Cho, I just wanted to know, would there be a use for ethanol in the workshops?"

"Ethanol?"

"Pure alcohol."

"Not that I know of."

"Any cleaning products the students use ethanol based?"

"I honestly wouldn't know. Each student is in charge of their own area, any cleaning products they use is up to them."

"Thank you." Stella turned to Danny once Mrs. Cho had left. "We need to search each station, any cleaning products or anything worth following up. Bag them and we'll pass them to Liberty to test."

"Awful lot of work stations." Danny said as the pair looked over the expansive workshop.

"You start at the front and I'll make my way from the back and we'll meet in the middle."

"See you in like three hours then."

Stella was packing up the last of her evidence before the pair would move onto the backstage area where the fashion show was held on the floor below when Mrs. Cho reappeared.

"Is there anything else I can help you with detective?"

"We're about to move onto the backstage area of where the fashion show was held Sunday."

"I've ensured that the museum is unlocked and open for you to carry out your search. If there isn't anything else I can help you with you must excuse me, I have some business to take care of."

"Mrs. Cho, before you go. There is one last thing I'd like to ask."

"Yes."

"Was there anyone Lydia didn't get along with?"

"Sorry?"

"Anyone she butted heads with? Didn't see eye to eye with?"

She shook her head, "Lydia was a well liked girl. She'd just won a second year scholarship and a high profile internship over the summer coming."

"I'm guessing it gets very competitive?"

Mrs. Cho nodded, "I suppose so, the internship is with the fashion offices at Vogue. I have several contacts there and it's been an ongoing thing for the past six years."

"Is it possible to get a list of the students who applied for this intern and scholarship?"

The lecturer raised an eyebrow, "Are you implying that one of my students might have had something to do with this?"

"At this moment Mrs. Cho, we can't rule anything out."

…

Mac stuck his head around the glass door of the labs. "Liberty, I'm going to need to borrow Adam for a couple of hours."

The head lab technician had been running over the labs evidence logs for the month as she sat atop one of the stools.

She looked up from her paperwork, "Uh, no."

Mac frowned as he stepped into the labs, Adam who'd been preparing several DNA reference samples looked between both his bosses. There weren't that many who were willing to butt heads with the head technician, and it had to be said Liberty was more lenient to Mac and his team above any of the other CSI's, but it didn't mean she was about to give in to him either.

"It's for a few hours, I need someone to come out and help collect evidence."

"He's processing a backlog, which if I remember correctly, _your_ team created. And thanks to the human rights law I've got two techs off on maternity leave, three off sick with flu and the remaining two working around the clock."

"I'm sure we can work something out." Mac reasoned.

Liberty wasn't moving, "No way Mac. You take Adam and my work load triples."

"Liberty I don't think you understand."

"Mac, have you seen the work in this lab? I am not prepared for you to take my staff gallivanting across the city. I need Adam here and there is no way around it. You're going to have to look for staff elsewhere!"

"Come on, there's plenty of me to go around." Adam joked, but judging by the look on Liberty's face, she found it less than amusing. "Ok, maybe not so funny for you."

"Liberty." Mac wasn't prepared to debate the issue.

"You gonna supply me with help Mac? Because I certainly can't do all this by myself."

"Liberty, I understand things are strained at present but we need all the help we can get out in the field. If that means stretching staff levels thin then that's what it may have to take. I will do everything in my power to make sure you have enough staff to cover the remaining work here." He took a deep breath, "I know you're trying to get some extra hands in here too and you're fighting a loosing battle with Rhea, I'll try and put some weight behind your argument."

She sighed as she rubbed at her temples in an attempt to dull her headache.

"I tell you what, you get me Messer in here to help with this backlog _he_ just helped create and you get Adam."

Mac smiled, "Done."

"Tell him I expect no whinging in my lab, and Adam."

Adam turned around slowly, giving Liberty his best debonair smile.

"Yes oh wonderful, magnificent and splendid chief lab technician Liberty Vaughn?"

Liberty looked at him pointedly over the top of her glasses, "Don't be getting any ideas, I don't need anyone else flying the coup around here. At least, not before me."

Adam grinned as he saluted her, "Yes ma'am."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Liberty did nothing to hide the grunt of frustration she let out when she almost dropped the handful of reports in her hand as she tried desperately to save a rack of test tubes she'd just knocked from falling to the floor.

"Wow, thanks for the help Mac." She muttered sarcastically under her breath as she managed to avert a mess of broken glass by catching them just in time and pushed the test tubs back to the middle of the countertop – far out of the way of being accidentally knocked again. "Where the hell is my freakin' help huh?"

Though she'd adverted shards of broken glass and spilt samples, the reports in her arms hadn't been as lucky.

Dropping to her knees she started to gather the multitude of reports she'd been trying to file away into some sort of order.

When the printer from across the other side of the room beeped, signalling her latest batch of results were through, she dropped the messy pile of papers atop of the counter and made he quick sprint across the lab. All the while thankful she'd traded her four-inch heels for the ballet pumps she kept at the back of her locker for such times like this.

As she pulled the results from the printer, her hope was deflated as her shoulders slumped. Her third batch was a bust – another no match to add to her pile. Adding it to her already growing pile she jumped up onto her stool, using the counter in front of her as leverage she managed to launch herself off and roll down to the large box of evidence Stella had left her over two hours ago to start on the next group.

Snapping on a new pair of gloves and grabbing the supplies from behind her she needed it was hardly how she envisioned things would be when she took over from Jane a little over a year ago. Originally, it'd been as head of DNA, as her once supervisor had been, that was despite her background in trace. But little did she know that would be the least of her worries.

As budgets tightened under a new mayor, politics and funding played a big part in how the labs were run and the start of a long struggle she was still fighting against. Not long after being named as head of DNA, she was soon migrated back to trace as head there. After a short spell of what she thought was a permanent move, it was announced that the budget was going over a huge overall, which could only spell trouble.

After much delegation between the head director of the labs Rhea Moore, who oversaw everything including the CSI's, it deemed the New York labs were drastically overspending. With a toss up between more staff, which were desperately needed or more resources the heads chose to go with the latter not wanting to compromise results. Regardless of Liberty's compassionate argument, that in spite of of more resources, without the staff to help carry the load they would be deemed worthless.

It fell of deaf ears; instead, the decision to make the CSI's more prominent in the lab was enforced.

The staff structure was scaled down to the bare minimum and Liberty against her best efforts found herself trying to hold both DNA and trace together as she was made head supervisor and technician for both departments when they were somewhat merged together.

As much as she admired Rhea, a supervisor herself once upon a time – holding both her position previously as well as Mac's, she couldn't help but feel disappointed in her once mentors lack of response to her cries for help. Especially as she knew what the current climate was.

Sighing again, something she was starting to tire with, she set up three vials and dropped equal amounts of the next solvent to be tested into each one. She knew damn well it'd be another negative hit. She'd already checked the label on the side of the bottle – it'd told her as much already that the components didn't match. Liberty knew she could have skipped it and just added a hand written a report to pile confirming as such. Nonetheless she was thorough, and set up the start of the next round of tests.

…

Flack scoured the library of students looking for the young woman from the day before, It took ten minutes of walking up and down the aisles of leather bound texts before he spotted her sat at the desk nestled at the larger double bay windows.

He had almost missed her, her blonde highlighted hair had been loose the day before, but now it was twisted into an intricate French braid, decorated by a single black bow.

"Carly Ramona."

The young woman looked up from the brightly coloured journal she was writing in to give the detective an apprehensive smile.

"Detective?" She asked, drawing a blank on his name despite only meeting him the day before.

"Flack. Is there somewhere we can talk?" He asked after he received another unwelcoming stare as he disturbed the peace once more.

She nodded as she motioned to the open books that were laid out in front of her, "Let me just put this away."

Flack waited patiently as Carly packed her belongings and followed her closely out to the lobby of the library foyer. Somewhere he could speak above a whisper without fear the librarian was going to come at him with a threat of expulsion after breaching the peace, like he had done on numerous occasions when at school.

The detective had no interest in getting comfortable and instead of moving to the table and chairs that were set up not far from them he insisted they stood. His height held quite an intimidating advantage; his six foot three frame certainly trumped her petite frame. He would have been lying if he'd said he hadn't given her a once over, there was no denying she was a pretty girl.

"Have you found who killed Lydia?" Came Carly's stuttered response when the pair had come to a stop.

Flack cocked his head to the side, he was sure the words 'suspected murder' had never once slipped from his mouth.

"What makes you think she was killed?"

"Uh, I – I mean, you're here again and I wouldn't have thought Lydia would have just dropped dead there on the spot." She said once she regained her composure.

Flack nodded, "You said you didn't see Lydia after the show."

"No," She shook her head, sending several strands of hair across her face, which she quickly brushed back. "Last time I saw her was when she stepped up to do her piece on the runway."

Again, Flack nodded, "I was wondering then, if you could explain this." From the inside pocket of his jacket he produced a glossy photo of a close up of the earring pulled from the victim's apartment.

Carly took the photo offered to her, inspecting it for a moment before looking back at Flack. "This is Lydia's earring. Her grandmother gave them to her for getting into FIT. What do you want to know?"

Flack nodded, accepting the photo back. "What I want to know is how this earring, which she was wearing when she left the stage, made it's way back to your apartment when you say she never came back."

"You searched my apartment!" She gawked.

"Don't worry, our warrant didn't reach as far as your room." He paused, looking her directly in the eye, "Unless you have something there we should know about."

"No." Came her firm response as she stared back at the blue-eyed detective.

"Then care to explain the earring?"

She tucked her hair back behind her ear, "Should I have a lawyer or something?"

"I thought we were just talking."

"I don't know how the earring got back to the apartment and Lydia didn't. Maybe I found it on the floor backstage and knew it was hers. I was wasted for most of it."

"So seems to be the general consensus." Suddenly what she said caught up with him. "Though, if you were participating in the show. Why would you risk it by getting wasted?"

The blonde scowled, "Because I wasn't involved."

"Bet that cut you up when Lydia was asked to model the main piece in the show."

"No, I was pleased for her. She was my best friend." She glanced at her watch, "Now is that all detective? I've got a lecture to attend in five minutes."

Flack debated keeping her around for a few more questions, but for now he had what he needed.

"No, that's it for now Miss. Ramona. But if we need you we'll be in touch."

"I don't doubt it."

…

Danny took off his glasses to rub his eyes. That afternoon security footage from the Fashion Institute and the surrounding campuses had turned up at the labs and Stella had promptly delivered it to him under strict orders he was not to move until they had something conclusive.

So far, he was coming up empty.

The fashion show had ended at some time after ten, the last time anyone had reported seeing Lydia Sanson was after she hit the backstage area once her trek down the catwalk was completed. She was supposed to have reported back to the main area to return the vintage dress she had been wearing back to storage.

The dress had never made its way back to storage and it was already evident that this was never noticed from Flack's report to Danny days before on his return from the Fashion Institute.

With a rough estimate of time, Danny had at least eliminated several hours of footage. Though the pile of tapes was still high, he had at least given himself a timeline to work from.

He pulled out the last tape he had, footage from the outside of Penn Station, not far from where their victim was found. Popping it into the tape machine he sat back ready for another hour of fuzzy surveillance footage.

Near enough at the point of exhaustion, a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye jolted him to sit upright and pull his chair in closer to the screen in front of him. A sudden surge of adrenaline hitting his system his hand darted for the control and he pressed rewind vigorously until it had wound back to the scene that had first caught his attention.

There on the edge of the screen was a clear shot of Lydia Sanson, dressed somewhat inappropriately for the cold front New York was currently experiencing. What was disturbing was that she was finding it incredibly hard to walk. As Danny played through the footage frame by frame it was evident between her stumbled falls down the brief flight of stairs, she was being helped by a second person.

Beginning a frantic search of his remaining tapes, he came a bust at every move. Each time he managed to catch the young woman on camera she was being supported or picked up by someone off side.

Danny shook his head as he leant back in his chair when the next reel of tape revealed much of the same thing. He knew there was no way the avoidance of the surveillance cameras were planned – but unfortunately for the CSI's luck seemed to have been on their suspect's side that night.

…

Liberty yawned, she was slumped down on her stool, her feet propped up on the counter in front of her. Having spent the afternoon back and forth between samples and print outs and the only one now working trace, she deemed she was permitted a five minute break while waiting on the next round of results.

It didn't take long for the printer to signal that her break was over.

Scooting up in her seat she contemplated whether it was worth ordering in or making a run to the deli out on the corner for a sandwich as she rolled her chair to the printer two feet away.

Forcing herself to stand to grab the results from above her, she promptly dropped back down to start reading through the report. Curling a piece of her hair around her finger she was expecting to throw it to the negative pile, much like the others, beside her that was now over an inch thick.

"Negative for blah, blah," She said as she scoured the first page. "Toxic benzenes, hmm – maybe…" Seeing nothing of great interest she jumped to the second page, which was when she saw something that made her stand up and take notice. "No way!"

She flipped back a couple of pages to confirm what she was reading was correct.

Realising it was she jumped down from her stool and ran for the door, but not before retracing her steps and grabbing the reference folder that she had open on the adjacent countertop.

…

When she'd left the lab she'd had full intentions of tracking down Stella, but when it became apparent she was nowhere to be found she changed course and went for the next person down on her list, Danny.

She found him sat in the AV room, his eyes glued to the screen. Pushing the glass door open she found herself looking up at several flat screen images frozen on a close up of a young woman struggling for support.

"Is this your vic?" She asked, causing Danny to jump somewhat from his seat in front of her.

He turned around, surprised to find the prim lab tech stood behind him, folders in hand.

Danny nodded as he rubbed his eyes, "Only trouble is we can't see who it is that's with her."

"Think you can get anything?" She asked, the sudden importance in finding him temporarily leaving her as the heaviness of the case hit her.

He shrugged, "I don't know. I guess we'll keep looking until something gives up." The CSI nodded to the folders in her hands. "What can I do you for?"

Shaking herself from her daze, Liberty suddenly remembered what had caused her to track him down.

"The evidence you brought in from the workshop to my lab."

"Yeah."

"When you brought it in, you didn't change anything – maybe accidentally pick up anything off of my counters thinking that it belonged with your stuff?"

Danny looked confused, "No. They were all sealed up, you saw for yourself when I signed them over to you." His curiosity over the folders ever growing he sat up straight. "Why, what's wrong?"

Liberty chewed on her lip and instantly regretted it when she tasted lip-gloss on her teeth.

"I think you might want to see this." She passed the lab results to him.

Danny never took his eyes off Liberty as he accepted the folder and opened them. Finally looking down at the report, he began skimming through what he understood of it.

There was a moment's silence before he stood, a look of shock on his face.

"We got a match."

She nodded, "But that's not the best part." She pulled a small evidence bag from her lab coat pocket. "Here."

Danny took the see through bag, and peered at the branded small bottle of solvent dye. The label on the front stated that it was to be added to fabric dye in order to hold a brighter and more vibrant colour. Danny looked from the bottle to the report in his opposite hand.

"This–"

"Doesn't match." Liberty grinned, once the CSI had finally caught up. "The liquids were switched."

"Hidden in plain sight, no one would think to look at it." He concluded. "Were you wearing gloves when you handled this?"

"Do we really need to go there again Danny?" Liberty asked as she rolled her eyes.

"I could kiss you Liberty, you do know that don't you?"

She grimaced, "That's twice I've heard that from you this week. I'd like to see the end of the week minus any kind of kiss from you Danny Messer, unless it's in the shape of a Hershley's kiss."

"If this breaks the case Liberty, you can have all the kisses you want."

The glint in his eye didn't go amiss, "Get out of here Messer." She swatted his shoulder with her test results, "Don't think of coming back unless you've got chocolate."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

After trying Flack's cell phone number and checking his desk twice, Stella was no closer to finding the detective. But a quick glance at the clock on her way to the front reception told her where she would find her wayward detective.

Normally she'd sprint out of the station, quick footing it down the precinct steps. This time however in light of the current climate she took each step carefully, one at a time in fear that the icy steps would send her flying to the bottom. Already seeing two officers slip on her way in she wasn't going to take any chances.

Safely and in one piece, she stepped down onto the solid concrete of the sidewalk. Rubbing her gloved hands together, she looked both ways before burying them into the pockets of her coat. Spying the overly tall dark haired detective wasn't hard; he was stood at the first vendor at the side of the street. Careful for iced patches under the snow she made a straight line for him.

"I guessed I'd find you out here."

As much as Flack loved his job, there were still aspects he still detested. One was being on call on a Monday morning and second was cases that strung out so long that he didn't get chance to eat a decent meal until it was wrapped. Which was why he was on such good terms with the street vendors outside PD.

Flack accepted the hotdog from the vendor, "You want? I'm buying."

Stella nodded, "I won't pass this one up. Relish, hold the onion please."

"So what can I do for you?" Flack asked as the pair fell instep, turning back in the direction Stella had just come from. "Damn it's cold out here." He winced, blowing hot air onto his free hand.

"That's why we invented gloves."

"Mine have conveniently gone missing."

Flack held the door open for the CSI, "Thanks."

"I heard about the lab results."

Stella nodded, "Perfect match."

The pair walked in silence until they reached Flack's desk. Shrugging off his coat he sat down and wasn't long followed by Stella, who sat with a sigh.

"I don't like the sound of that sigh Stell, what's wrong?"

She broke off a piece of bread from her hot dog roll, "I feel like we're heading for a brick wall, and hard."

Flack chewed on his hotdog before swallowing, "What makes you think that?"

Stella frowned, "So far what we really have is a whole lot of empty leads."

Danny had skidded out of the AV room and tracked down Stella to inform her of Liberty's lab results. Though their delight at their results had been short lived.

"We may have what killed our vic Flack, but no means of linking it to her."

"Then come on."

"Come on what?"

"Lets go over what you got again." The CSI raised an eyebrow, "Humour me Bonasera, my ma' always said the answer is always in front of you. It's just a matter of having the right eyes to see it."

"By any chance when she was saying this, she wasn't discussing a homicide case going cold was she?"

"Very funny."

"Okay, we've got footage from Penn Station and Madison Gardens showing our victim being _helped_, notice how I use the term loosely, to where she is finally left to die."

"So we have proof someone left her there."

"That we do, but why?"

"Where was the bottle found?"

"In a shared common area."

"Any desks in particular near by?"

Stella mulled it over, "I'm sure we've got a layout somewhere." She flicked through the files she'd brought with her that were now rested on her lap. "Here." She placed a photocopy of the workshop layout on his desk.

"You get prints off of the ethanol bottle?"

Stella rubbed at her forehead, "Danny's working on it now."

"I hear you've found the substance that killed Lydia Sanson."

Both turned to see Mac stood at the end of Flack's desk.

Stella nodded, "Ethanol hidden in a bottle of fabric dye solvent."

Mac nodded, "Finger prints?"

She shook her head, "All messy partials, we can't get anything together."

Mac thought it over, "Leave it with me, I think I can help you there."

"You going to elaborate?" Stella asked.

Mac gave her a knowing smile; "I'll call you when I get an answer. If you'd excuse me, I have a suspect who needs interrogating."

As quickly as he appeared, he left, leaving the pair to ponder what it was he was intending to do.

"Well, that was interesting." Flack dripped sarcastically. "So, you got whose benches were next to where you found the ethanol?"

Stella ran her finger over the photocopied layout, "We found the ethanol in a common area, the benches that surround it, umm, Helen Millard, Savannah Wood, Oscar Riley and Carly Ramona."

"Carly Ramona?"

"What about her?"

"She told me today she'd just been accepted for a summer internship at some magazine."

Stella thought for a moment before turning her back on the detective to flick through several of the folders she'd brought in her briefcase that she'd dropped on the floor next to her chair on her way in.

"Aha!"

"What's that?" Flack asked when she proudly held up a single piece of paper.

"This is a list of all the students who applied for the same scholar and internships as Lydia." She ran a manicured finger down the length of the list. "Carly Ramona."

"If Lydia was out of the picture, it says here she was second to get it."

"I think we just got our first suspect. We've just got to find the link."

"Then bingo!"

"We need to get Danny in on this."

"See, what did I tell you 'bout my ma', was she not right?"

Stella smirked, "Remind me to thank her the next time I see her. Come on."

"Where we going?"

"We're going back to the workshop, I've got a hunch." Flack looked at his lunch pleadingly. "Don't worry, you can bring it with you."

…

Stella strode into the bustling workshop, closely followed by Flack. It didn't take long for their presence to be noticed and Mrs. Cho, the dean of the Fashion Institute was quick to cut them off. Her once welcoming demeanour was long gone.

"I am starting to wonder if your presence her should come with a warrant." Mrs. Cho took off her glasses as the detective and CSI made their way into her workshop. "I've been more than welcoming to you, even allowing you to take what samples you needed on your last visit. But now your continued harassment is starting to bring unfavouring publicity on the institute. Never mind the fact you're questioning students, on the institutes grounds without any authority."

Stella promptly unfolded the court issued warrant Flack had obtained on their way from the precinct, having a judge on speed dial was beginning to feel like a good idea.

"It's a good thing then we stopped on our way for this."

Mrs. Cho snatched the warrant from Stella's hand, skimming through it after she placed her glasses back on the end of her nose.

"I guess I have no choice but to allow you through." She signalled for them to continue on their way.

"We're going to need the students to step away from their benches." Flack said, closing the door behind him.

Mrs. Cho addressed her class, "You heard the detectives." She rubbed at her forehead wearily, "Leave everything at your desks." She turned to Flack, "Do you need them here?"

Flack looked to Stella who shook her head, "No, they can leave. But I suggest they don't leave campus anytime soon."

"Student, if you'd follow me please." Mrs. Cho motioned for them to follow her, which they dutifully did – making sure to voice their complaints at the detectives on their way out. "Detective Flack, Bonasera, I'm sure you will advise when we are able to return?"

"Don't worry Mrs. Cho," Flack responded, all the while wondering why the woman had been so adamant in being referred to as only Mrs. Cho – he made a mental note to ask Mac about it. "We'll be sure to keep you in the loop."

After the last student left, Flack turned to the CSI who was pulling on her latex gloves before snapping open her briefcase.

"So where we gonna start Stell."

She handed him a pair of spare gloves, which he expertly pulled on.

"If the alcohol that poisoned our victim was in plain sight, hidden in a solvent dye bottle. Then what else are we going to find?"

"I'm following you, if our killer is bold enough to display it for all to see, then they might have done the same again."

"Exactly." Stella brushed back a stray curl, "If we're going to go with our theory that Carly Ramona is our suspect, I say we start from her desk and move outwards."

Flack nodded and followed Stella to the bench in the far right hand side of the workshop.

"I'm coming up with nothing here Stell."

She sighed, it was becoming an all too familiar response, "Me too."

She surveyed the area they'd been searching. Drawer upon drawer had been pulled out and the cupboards surrounding the area had been searched one after other – each one coming up empty. What they did find was swatches of fabric, folders of sketches, handwritten notes – but nothing to suggest they were looking at the desk of their victim's killer.

Flack dropped down onto the floor next to Stella, his coat and jacket long discarded, he leant back, but hadn't anticipated how close he was to the desk until his head hit the wooden bench with a thud.

"Dammit! That hurt like a bit–"

"You okay Don?"

Flack rubbed at the back of his head, "I'm good, thick skull – still seeing stars though."

But Stella wasn't listening, she was too busy checking out what Flack had inadvertently discovered.

"Flack, I think you and your thick head have just found us something."

"Huh, what?" He scooted over so she could get a better look and turned around to inspect the surface he'd bumped his head against.

"Here, help me pull this out."

With Flack's help the pair pulled out a drawer, which ran half the length of the workbench that was hidden underneath, designed to hold design plans, of which there were plenty. It was a small tin container that had Stella's attention.

"What you got?" Flack asked as she pushed around several drawings and designs.

"This looks interesting."

"Lets see."

The pair stood and Stella shook the tin, signalling it was full of metal by the nose it made against the confines of the small yellow container. Flicking open the lid Flak peered around Stella's shoulder as she spilt its contents.

"Needles?" Flack asked, unimpressed with their find.

But Stella was ahead of the detective, "Remember what we said about everything being in plain sight?" Flack nodded, "Well, I think we've just stumbled onto something." She spread the sewing needles over the surface of the bench. She picked out a lone needle from the pile. "Since when were hypodermic needles used in a fashion designers studio?"

…

"Delivery for Miss. Vaughn." Flack announced as he stepped into the glass walled lab, paper bag of evidence under one arm and in his hand the chain of command forms for Liberty to sign off on confirming she had taken ownership of said evidence.

Flack looked puzzled as he looked around the room, the printer was spewing out pages of results and several test tubes were lined up across every available surface signalling that they were works in progress – but there was no sign of Liberty, let alone anyone else.

"Liberty?" He called out only to be greeted by the sound of crashing boxes.

Placing the evidence and forms safely on one of the benches he dashed around to the back of the lab to the stock room where he found Liberty sat amongst a stack of fallen folders. He resisted the urge not to laugh at the sight of her sat amongst fallen documents, her curls ruffled out of place and her glasses hanging off her nose.

She glared at the detective, "I don't want you to say a word. Just help me up."

Wordlessly Flack reached down and helped the blonde to her feet before crouching down to collect the fallen evidence catalogues.

"Where is everyone?" He asked once they'd placed the last of the folders back on the shelf.

Liberty pushed her glasses up onto her forehead, before waking past him back into the lab to the printer where she collected her results.

"Don't even go there, it's just me."

"What about geek boy?"

"I think he prefers to go by the name Adam."

Flack grinned, "He likes the torment."

"He's out in the field with Mac. Leaving me to sort out this mess."

"Then you're not going to like what I'm about to say next."

"Unless you're going to tell me Danny is on his way to help then I think I would be inclined to agree."

Flack traced his steps back until he came to the evidence Stella had asked him to bring up.

"Stella asked me to drop this in as a rush."

Liberty dropped down onto a vacant stool, "This is not happening." She muttered to herself, "Give it here." She signalled for him to pass her the log sheets, which she scribbled her signature on before taking the bag of evidence. "No wonder they sent you over."

Flack raised an eyebrow, "Huh."

"Stella knew I wouldn't be able to argue with you over adding stuff to my already backlogged lab as a rush."

"There's me thinking it was because of my pretty boy looks."

"Whatever that girl of yours is feeding your ego, she's lying."

Flack smirked, "Aren't you due a break?"

Liberty looked at her watch, "Like three hours ago, but I can't leave all this. Especially now with Stella's rush."

"You eaten?"

Liberty paused; she had been unpacking the bag of evidence along with the instructions Stella had tagged to each one. "Does a bag of chips from the vending machine count?"

"Tell you what, since I'm in such a good mood I'll swing by the deli to pick you something up."

She narrowed her eyes at the detective, "What are you after Don?"

He held his hands up in defence, "Nothing, I swear!"

"Fine, I'll take anything – I'm that hungry."

"I'll be back in twenty minutes."

Before he could leave, Liberty called him back. "Thanks Don."

He gave her a wink, "Anytime for you Vaughn."

…

After dropping Liberty's promised sandwich to her Flack made his way through the labs munching on his own sandwich as he looked for Danny. Finding him back in the AV rooms he pulled up a seat next to him.

"What you got?"

"Pastrami and cheese." The detective answered, "And no you ain't having any of it."

Danny shook his head, "I know better than to try and ask you for food."

"Anything come up yet?"

Danny sighed as he dropped back in his seat running his hands over his tired face, "Nuthin' – this person has gotta be more than lucky, they've not appeared once."

"You think they knew where all the cameras were?"

Danny shook his head again, "I don't think they would be that smart."

"But if they did, that would mean they would have had to have planned it – proving murder."

Danny lifted his glasses, rubbing his tired eyes. "I've been watching hours upon hours of footage, I'm just about beat."

Flack rummaged around in his coat pocket, "Here." He flung a candy bar at his friend.

"What's this for?" Danny asked, opening the wrapper and taking a bite.

"Stop you from moaning." Flack nodded to the screen, "How far you got?"

Danny swallowed his mouth full of candy; "I'm going through the tapes from outside Penn Station."

"By where we found our vic?"

Danny nodded, taking another bite out of the candy. "So far all I've seen on this tape is several drunks and the security guard doing his rounds. You come up with anything back at the institute."

Flack wiped his mouth as he finished his sandwich with hit last bite, "Just dropped it down with Liberty, she think it's going to be a while until we get any results though."

"You gotta be anywhere?"

"Why? You trying to get rid of me Messer?"

"I've been sat in here by myself _all_ day – I welcome any company."

Reaching for another tape beside him Danny cursed when he knocked over his coffee cup onto his lap.

"Dammit." He sprung to his feet, desperate for something to clean up his mess.

Not taking his eyes off of the screens in front of him, Flack casually handed Danny a cloth from the desk beside him.

"Here."

"I'm going to have to change my pants now!"

"You sound worse than Lindsey when she spilt dusting powder down her white shirt."

But Flacks comparison was lost as Danny dropped to his knees to clean the mess he'd created.

Leaving him be, Flack continued watched as the tape jumped to another angle on the alleyway. It was only a quick jump, but enough to warrant further investigation by the detective who hit rewind followed by the pause.

"Isn't that our vic?" Flack asked, leaning in close to the LCD screen. "And isn't that–"

Danny stood from his kneeled position, wiping his hands as he did. Like Flack he leant in to get a better look.

A grin spread across the CSI's face as he patted Flacks shoulder enthusiastically, "Boom!" He clapped his hands together in excitement, "I think we got our killer Flacky boy!"


End file.
